Infusion

I wore fur and diamonds today
took extra care with my makeup my hair
practiced my lines in the mirror
then marched in
and sat in the big chair
the same one I always sit in
by the window so I can
see my reflection
in the glass
only to discover
that everyone
was cheering and clapping for the silent
hairless man with the IV
sitting just across from me
in total
peaceful
surrender

Chemo: Match 2 Round 1

And in the blue corner wearing a Citiknits black and coral three-piece ensemble and a very chic do, we have defending champion Maaaaartha, the Maaagnificent! ding ding ding ding!

So, any ideas how my first chemo here went?? It was GREAT! I felt anxious the past few days but the closer today came, the more peace I felt. No tears this time at all, no feelings of fear or 'I don't want to be here' or out right, 'get me out of here!' Nothing like that. I was actually anticipating this with a fair amount of optimism and a whole lot of gratitude for being in this area with my Tel and getting to see Dr. K.

I saw Dr. K's P.A. today before treatment. I like him very much. Straight forward, compassionate, obvious that he knew my history, even that I'd moved out here recently. Later, Dr. K made it a point to come out to the infusion center and talk with me and Telly for awhile. I was so impressed (again!!) Remember, this is the same man who came to see me in the hospital on his day off...

I figured out why this infusion center feels so different from the one at Kaiser: Not only does it feel more cozy (it's smaller and the people overall are very warm and friendly) the room is more spaciously arranged, the chairs are a prettier color (although they recline and function the same way) and one entire wall is windows! I love that! I love light! I really enjoyed seeing the sky through the tall trees here which are just beginning to bud! So pretty! And we had an early appointment so there weren't very many people in the room. My nurse is great. She explained a whole lot and checked on me often. And unlike Kaiser who gives you whoever the computer will bring up, this place will do its best to give me the same nurse every time. I think that's important both for rapport and because some nurses are way better at putting in IV's. I like knowing what to expect

My new medication is the color of strawberry jello. Just as red as it can be. Some people have side effects, especially the first time they get it, but I didn't. Chantel and I visited for awhile and then I fell asleep from the Benadryl. When I woke up, she had already made my next appointments and had a packet of information for me. The entire visit was just over three hours. The nurse said next time it will be shorter since I tolerated the Doxil, they will give it to me faster next time. Round two in 28 days.

Oh, my gosh! I forgot to tell you something important! I had a good amount of energy today (we went to Costco this afternoon) and I realized that it's because I had my lung drained! Yes! Earlier this week Dr. K arranged for me to see another awesome guy (not too warm and fuzzy but brilliant with his work) and he drained my lung on Wednesday afternoon. I was extremely anxious (translated, in tears) about the visit because of the experience I had in emergency last month, but Dr. Morton was technically incredible. On a scale of one to ten, the discomfort level was a one, and I can breathe again! Yay! I should have gone in sooner. Chantel, I love you so much, and I'm sorry I caused you anxiety and a nightmare by putting off the procedure. I won't do that again!

Perspective

I have a lonely friend. Beautiful. Smart. Divorced. Built her life around a man. The problem is, it's been several years since her breakup and she still feels incomplete. I know the feeling, like a leg is missing or an arm, or part of one's heart. In her case though, she wants to be connected to someone in the worst way, but she hasn't done her work yet, at least, I don't think so because she's attracting all the wrong kinds. She looks at every male as a possible husband. Yikes!! I've tried to tell her that when she feels whole and beautiful and valuable--all by herself--then she'll attract a man who feels the same way about himself instead of every Mr. Needy out there. That, in fact, she'll find joy in getting to know herself as a unique, talented individual. There's amazing strength in that and in being alone. Sigh...words...I guess we're each here to learn on our own...but it helps to have friends to give us encouragement along the way. I'm so glad I didn't "hook up" with someone right out of the gate...who knows what kind of new problems I would have created for myself.

Should I or Shouldn't I?

I arrived home after 10:30 pm. I had worked all day at my care-giver job and I was tired. Brandon was still up. Two boxes from the distribution center had arrived (I had ordered some ASL materials for Brandon and his friend who recently joined the church). On top of the boxes was a stack of mail. A check from Guideposts! Cool! They paid me for a story that's coming out in the May/June issue. They had changed the title of the story from "A Friend in Deed" to "Wilma to the Rescue." I laughed out loud. That was Wilma alright. I shuffled through the mail. Yet another offer for a credit card. A flyer from a real estate agent. A bill from my auto insurance company. A letter from the University of Montana. Two of them, in fact! My mind raced. Two letters? Duplicates? One saying, "We don't want you" The other saying, "We REALLY don't want you"? Or one letter for the "N" and one for the "O"? Brandon urged me to open them.
"No. I'm not ready."
"But Mom, whatever is in the letters will be the same no matter when you open them."
"I know, and that's why I'm not opening them now."

I thought about my daughter--the person I would tell first. It was almost 2 am in Maryland. I thought about my friend Glo. She'd be up. But, still, I wanted to share this with my girl. If "no" I'd need her support. If "yes" I wanted to share the joy. I opened everything else, including the boxes, threw the trash away, brushed my teeth, got ready for bed, said my prayers, and left the letters on my vanity. My heart wouldn't slow down. I had to get some sleep. This was ridiculous. I reached for the letters and, lying back on my pillows, held them up to the light. Maybe just a few words to give me a hint. Sort of the way I get into a swimming pool--one toe at a time instead of doing a cannonball off the diving board. I couldn't make out anything significant. I put the letters aside, turned off the light and went to sleep.

Last night I dreamed happy dreams. I don't remember what I dreamed exactly, but I felt peaceful and happy when I woke up. I called Chantel and got her voice mail. She called me back a short time later. The moment had arrived! With her on the other end of the phone, it was easy to open the letters.

Dear Martha:

According to information...could not be processed...information is incomplete...if you have any questions...blah, blah, blah!

All that anxiety over a letter from financial aid? Basically, the letters said what I already know: my application is being processed. They need more information. (They're waiting on my completed tax return).

Next time I'll just rip the envelope open right on the spot...But what if it's a no? What if it's a yes? What if it's late, and Telly is asleep across the country? Oh----------raspberry!!!

Anxiety

Counting down...chewed off my nails!! Darn it! First time in 3 years. Withdrew my application from Emerson. Got two no's this week--Pittsburgh and Iowa. That leaves Montana, North Carolina, Baltimore or West Virginia. With only four choices left out of seven, I should be feeling better, but I actually feel worse. I'm trying to look down the road and my future isn't neatly packaged, dated and bar coded for efficiency. It's a big question mark; HOWEVER--I'd rather have anxiety and excitement than dull and routine. Lack of conflict doesn't necessarily mean happy. And I still have a thesis to complete and a graduation party to plan. I'll keep y'all posted.

Revelation

The whole encounter lasted less than a minute. I had just dropped off some medical forms when I saw a young woman with long blond hair and nondescript clothings softly crying, sitting across the room, waiting for her appointment with a psychologist. Her face was entirely wet from tears. She clutched a soggy tissue in one hand and made no attempt to hide her sorrow; couldn’t actually, I’m sure. I felt a little tug at my heart, but what could I do? I left the waiting room and walked to the elevator. I reached for the down arrow, but stopped just short of pushing it. I couldn't just leave, pretend I hadn't seen her, forget who I am now. I turned and walked back in. The woman looked up when she saw me and began sobbing harder. I walked over and touched her knee. She cried harder. I waited. “It will be ok, whatever it is, I promise,” I said quietly, so as not to draw attention to her from the other patients. She looked up at me with intense green eyes and a face full of pain, as though her very life depended upon my every word. “Don’t give up” I said. She nodded and sobbed out a “Thankyou.”

As I took the elevator down to the ground floor and walked across the parking lot, my own eyes filled with tears. It had rained all night and the morning sky was still gray and overcast. So much sorrow in this world! In the car, I thought about the woman all the way to Mills. I don’t know why she was so grief stricken and I wondered: A broken heart? Betrayal? A dead or dying child? Divorce? But does it really matter what the source of our pain is?

These past months, knowing I’d be writing memoir for my senior project, I’ve been agonizing over the purpose of writing such a difficult story as ours has been. Other than my own obvious need to find a place for those experiences, I've been thinking: Who will read them? And why will they care? My professor has been pushing me to find a thesis and determine who my audience will be.

“Don’t give up” I had said to the woman. There were times when I wanted to, no doubt, but I didn’t, and that is probably the single most important decision I've made which gave me back my life. I think I just found my thesis.

What's in a Score Anyway?

Yesterday I drove to Fremont to take the GRE. I could have gone elsewhere but I would have had to wait longer and since I need the scores for a couple of schools, I decided the sooner the better. The test was about what I expected, some essay writing, some analytic, some vocabulary, some math (x*!@@#*!) and some reading comprehension. Everything was timed though so that was a little stressful. Anyway, I did OK, not bad, not fabulous, but as I was driving home (in Friday traffic with lots of time to think) I realized that the scores might mean something, but they don't reflect who we really are. For instance, how does one measure enthusiasm, or passion, or dedication to a profession? The GRE can't hear one's voice, or recognize the conditions under which someone might be testing. I told myself all these things so I could stop worrying about which school I'll get into. Hopefully, my writing samples will stand on their own; I'm realizing throughout this process, that so much of what we do depends upon faith. I can't read the future, and based on my past, I don't think I'd ever want to, except maybe a little bit, like WHERE am I going to be living next year? But oh well, I should take the advice I give my children: No sense worrying about it now because I can't act on it anyway. And I don't want to waste the present by worrying about the future, something we Mormons are occasionally criticized for. So...it's December, I have a paper to write, a tree to put up and time to spend with my Mother. Happy December!